


Catching All the Lights

by valkyrish



Series: Sunshine [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crushes, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Mutual Pining, Romance, Sleepy Cuddles, The Winter Palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrish/pseuds/valkyrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of friendship and romance, told through the dances that could have been and the dances that were.</p><p>Snapshots of the relationship between Wil Trevelyan and Cassandra Pentaghast, before, during, and long after the Winter Palace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preparations

Wil had only asked a simple question.

“You’re making me nervous gaping at me like that, Josephine.”

Josephine closed her mouth but kept staring. “Forgive me, Inquisitor. I assumed, given your family—your station in Ostwick, that you would be used to formal balls.”

“I was always too young to go. Then, I started preparing for life in the Chantry,” he said. “Though I’d wager that a ball in the Free Marches is nothing like an Orlesian fête.”

“You have me there.” She set down her papers and smiled up at him, tension leaving her shoulders. “Sometimes I forget that you had planned to join the Chantry.”

“Am I that blasphemous?” asked Wil. He intended it to be a joke, but Josephine’s eyes went wide.

“Oh no! Please don’t misunderstand. I only meant that it’s hard to imagine you locked in a library all day.”

“It did get lonely, sometimes. But I suppose we’ll never know how that would have turned out.” And Wil was surprised to find that he wasn’t sad about it. Of course, now that he had people to discuss books with, he had almost no time to read.

“An unintended consequence of the Breach, albeit a pleasant one.” Josephine stood and rounded her desk, her hair and blouse shining in the sunlight. “Now, what did you want to know?”

What was the most urgent question? Wil scratched his chin. “Do I get to wear a mask?”

She laughed, but stopped when he didn’t join her and cleared her throat. “I think it would be best if you didn’t. We don’t want to seem like we’re mocking their customs.”

“Mock Orlesians? I would never.” Wil put a hand to his chest, covering his disappointment with feigned offense. But he laughed it off. “All right, no masks. Next question. What do I say if someone talks to me?”

She blinked a few times; apparently, Wil was asking stupid questions, though Josephine was far too polite to say so. “Could you be more specific?” she asked.

Wil frowned, grasping for an example of a situation, but he didn’t even know enough to know what to ask. “No?”

A little laugh escaped her lips before she covered her mouth, but Wil wasn’t bothered. “I apologize. It’s just that you of all people will have no trouble charming the court.”

“I’m not half as charming as you are,” he said, flashing a smile.

Wil’s words and Josephine’s subsequent blush did not deter her. “This is exactly what I mean. If it were Sera, I’d be more concerned. Presenting Cole at the Winter Palace?” She shuddered. “Perish the thought. But you, Inquisitor, will be fine.”

The knot in his stomach started to unravel, but only a little. “Just the same, I’d like your advice.”

“Very well.” She pursed her lips, thinking. One corner of her mouth quirked up. “Never give a direct answer. As I understand from talking to Seeker Pentaghast, you are quite good at this.”

Wil didn’t know what to make of that. He didn’t realize Cassandra talked about him, but Josephine didn’t give him a chance to ponder it.

“Don’t reveal your cards until you are certain you have the upper hand,” she went on. “Your natural charisma is a boon, and the Orlesians do love a fresh face, but everyone else has been playing the Game for years. Decades.” She sighed. “I suppose your apprehension is not without cause.”

He swallowed, but masked it with a grin. “Thanks. You’ve made me feel better.”

“Oh, goodness!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’ve made it worse, haven’t I? That was not my intent.”

“Relax, Josephine, I’m being honest. You’ve helped a great deal.” This made her smile. Wil shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “There’s just one more thing.”

“Of course, Inquisitor.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “Will I be expected to dance? I haven’t danced since I was boy. Once I devoted my life to study, my parents abandoned all hope of socializing me.”

“And yet, you are among the most civilized members of the Inquisition,” she replied with a giggle.

“Oh, I think Dorian has a leg up.”

“Be that as it may, I’m afraid his heritage won’t win him any points in Halamshiral.” Josephine frowned. “Orlesian nobles aren’t known for their open minds.”

“All the more reason I shouldn’t step on any toes, literal or figurative. Will you help me?”

Josephine’s lips curled in a mischievous smile. “Hoping, perhaps, that you’ll have a chance to dance with Cassandra?”

His grin widened. “If only she would have me,” he said, his voice wistful. For a moment, he had considered asking Cassandra to show him how to dance. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to talk to her, but she avoided him these days. She was probably hoping he would take the hint.

Wil briefly considered asking Dorian, but didn’t want to endure the inevitable teasing (even if he deserved it).

“Well, there will most certainly be dancing, and there is no faster way to dazzle at a ball,” said Josephine, pulling him from his thoughts and extending her hand.

He was right to come to Josephine. Laughing, she showed him how to lead, the movements coming back to him as if he had only learned them in a dream.


	2. Aftermath

The Inquisitor had been remarkable. In a matter of hours, he had gone from dancing with the Grand Duchess to taking her down with well-timed words. Cassandra could only watch in awe as he charmed the court at every turn. Despite the civil war and the Breach, _he_ would be the talk of all Orlais for months to come.

Were it up to Cassandra, she would have let the Empress fall, beheaded Florianne, and called it a day. They would have left for Skyhold hours ago, The Game be damned.

The Inquisitor’s way was better, but she never would have found the words.

Now, he stood on the balcony, gazing out at seemingly nothing. The orchestra played a stately tune. Not Cassandra’s favorite, but suitable for dancing nonetheless. If she approached him, would he ask her to dance? And why was it so disappointing that he hadn’t already? He was the portrait of propriety, as he should be.

That didn’t stop her mind from wandering as she stared at his back. Dare she ask him? Would he laugh at her? Worse, would he agree? From the way he glided around the ballroom with the Grand Duchess, she could have believed he’d danced his whole life.

All the more reason to avoid the question entirely. She would stick to charging on the battlefield and leave the softer skills to the Inquisitor.

But she could imagine it; his hand warm in hers, inviting her to dance in that low, rumbling tone he so rarely used. He would take the lead, sweeping them in slow circles around the balcony until the music faded and the moonlight cast a blue glow on his cheeks. The Inquisition, too, would fade away, just for a moment. A moment that was theirs alone.

“Aren’t you going to speak with him?”                                                                  

Cassandra nearly jumped onto a pillar at Josephine’s voice. She turned sharply to look at something else—a tapestry, a table—anything but the Inquisitor or Josephine.

“Oh, Josephine! You startled me.” If she didn’t mention it, maybe Josephine wouldn’t bring it up again. _And maybe Commander Cullen will marry one of those Orlesian Duchesses._

“The Inquisitor. Wilhelm. He always values your input. Perhaps he would like it now.”

Cassandra shook her head. “I can’t imagine what I could say that hasn’t already occurred to him.”

Josephine sighed. “Some company, then?”

“He has had a long night,” said Cassandra, letting her eyes drift back out towards the balcony. “I’m certain he has heard enough idle chatter.”

“Time with a friend is completely different from gossip at a ball.” Despite Josephine’s good-natured tone, it felt like a scolding. “Besides, as long as I’ve known you, you have never been one for _idle chatter_.”

“He is tired, as am I. If you are so worried, why don’t you talk to him?” Cassandra regretted her words even before Josephine’s face fell. She should not have snapped, and she took a deep breath. “I apologize. It has been a trying day for us all.”

Josephine recovered with a nod. “Of course. For Empress Celene to survive an attempted assassination and coup, and with Ambassador Briala at her side? Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would never believe it.”

“No one could have predicted it.” Cassandra looked around the ballroom; the excitement still hadn’t settled, and the wine was still flowing. “But one does wonder how long the peace will last.”

“And people accuse me of worrying too much,” said Josephine with a laugh. “You should take the time to enjoy this victory. Who knows when we’ll have another chance?”

“You should take your own advice.” No one worked harder than Josephine. Her mind was always on the next steps, like a chess player dozens of moves ahead of her opponent. Cassandra tilted her head towards the balcony.

“If you’d like to talk, I’d be happy to—”

But Cassandra had had enough talking for one night. “Go. Dance with him. You practiced together. It only seems fitting.”

Josephine frowned, searching her face. Probably for a hint of jealousy. Cassandra made sure that she would find none. “I would never intrude—”

“Your concern is misplaced. You intrude upon nothing.” Her response was too quick, so she forced a smile, trying to put Josephine at ease. “You said it yourself; he needs a friend. You are his friend, are you not?”

“Well, I am, but—”

“Then go.” Cassandra kept her tone friendly, but firm. She didn’t need Josephine or anyone else jumping to conclusions about her and the Inquisitor. There were already mumblings around Skyhold, but those rumors couldn’t be further from the truth.

“But what about you?”

“Commander Cullen needs help preparing for the journey back to Skyhold.” When Josephine’s concern didn’t fade, she added, “But thank you.” Cullen would appreciate the help, and the familiar company. Furthermore, it was practical; the sooner they left, the better.

Josephine pursed her lips. “I can help the Commander just as—”

“Go,” Cassandra repeated. She lowered her gaze and added, against her better judgement, “For me.”

Josephine caught her meaning with a nod. Her eyes went round with compassion (or pity, Cassandra couldn’t be sure), and she headed through the grand balcony doors.

When the Inquisitor turned to face Josephine, Cassandra ducked out of sight, but not before catching a glimpse of his face. His brow crinkled—was it a flash of disappointment? But as quickly as it came, it was replaced by the smile that had charmed more than just the Orlesian elites.

As he swept Josephine into his arms, Cassandra left to find Cullen. There was much to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took every flirt with Cassabdra, so imagine my surprise when Josephine shows up for a dance after Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts! Now it's my canon.


	3. Denouement

With his arm around Cassandra’s waist, Wil stared out at the horizon. A peaceful silence settled as the sun rose, unobstructed in the healed sky. His shoulders ached and the cut on his hip probably needed attention, but nothing could persuade him to leave his quarters

Most of all, he needed rest, and judging by Cassandra’s heavy eyelids, she needed it as well. The workload hadn’t slowed after defeating Corypheus, and neither of them had gotten much sleep. Much as Wil wanted to celebrate with the rest of the Inquisition, he felt himself nod off a couple times before he decided to return to his room.

He pressed a kiss to Cassandra’s temple and drew her back inside, but they had only taken a couple of steps when a trumpet called out from the party below. Pounding drums soon joined the melody; it was an old Free Marcher drinking song his father had sung before. Thankfully, no drunken singing made it up to the balcony.

“So much for sleeping,” said Wil with a laugh.

Cassandra growled, eyes narrow but much more alert than before. “I will break that horn in half.” She started for the door, but he grabbed her hand.

“Let them celebrate. When’s the next time we’ll defeat a would-be god?”

Her frown faded as she looked at him, and she heaved a sigh. “Maker forbid we should have to do it again.” She drew close to him once more, her body stiff but warm at his side. As they listened to the music, the tension began to slip from her shoulders, and she leaned against him.

“This almost reminds me of the Winter Palace, only without that itchy red jacket,” said Wil, wrapping his arms around her. But the balcony also drudged up memories of pining after Cassandra, wondering if it was time to give up on his failed attempts at flirtation. “And, while I admire Josephine and treasure her friendship, I think we both knew she wasn’t the one I was hoping to see on that balcony. I should have sought you out.”

Cassandra let out another sigh. “It seems like ages ago. I wanted to go to you, but I was afraid.” With a grunt, she added, “I was a fool.”

He looked down at her and smiled, running the back of his hand down the side of her face, over her scars. “You, my love, are many things, but you are no fool. Stubborn, perhaps.” It was one of the qualities he most admired in her.

“I can live with that.” She laughed, like lyrics to the music that floated up to his quarters, and her smile pulled at his heart. “It doesn’t matter. We are here now.”

“Here we are,” he echoed. Her eyes fluttered shut and she rested her head on his shoulder. The song changed—a slower, softer song that Wil didn’t recognize. His head sagged as he listened, bobbing not with the music but with drowsiness. Cassandra started to hum, and he thought she might be drifting off as well until she looked up at him.

“I have always loved this song.” Her voice was dreamy, but she held his gaze, and he understood.

“Would you like to dance?” It seemed a fitting way to celebrate, and if she accepted, he would resist sleep as long as it took.

A breath of a laugh escaped her lips. “Are you sure you can stand?”

“So long as you’re holding me.”

She beamed up at him, radiant with love. “All right. Just for a little while.”

He took her hand, shifting to hold her like Josephine had shown him months ago.

Even though their best efforts soon became more of a lazy sway, Wil had never enjoyed a dance so much. Dancing so close at the Winter Palace would have caused a scandal, especially given where Cassandra chose to put her hands, but he wasn’t about to object. His lips brushed her jaw, affectionate but not urgent—he was just too tired.

When Cassandra mumbled something about a _Wedge of Destiny_ , he tugged at her arm, half-dreaming himself.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

Cassandra’s hair tickled his neck as she nodded. “Thank you for the dance.”

They couldn’t even manage to turn down the sheets, let alone change clothing. It was all Wil could do to help her out of her boots before she collapsed at his side. He never slept on his back, but it would do for tonight. Eyes closed, he caught the side of Cassandra’s mouth for a soft kiss goodnight. She nudged his head, guiding his lips to hers for another before burying her face in his neck.

Sunlight poured through the open balcony and the musicians played on, but Wil and Cassandra were blissfully unaware.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, the title comes from D.A.N.C.E. by Justice. This story was inspired by my in game experience, as well as a tumblr conversation about OCs in this post: http://rockihiko-sanada.tumblr.com/post/129982150604/for-the-oc-meme-sorry-if-this-is-late-i-never :3


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